Not having the heart to tell them the bird was dead, I launched into a physiology lesson. "See guys, under the feathers? That's where the lungs are... do you know what the lungs do?"

My son rolled his eyes. The child of a doctor, he had been through this before. "Yeah, mom, I know -- they help him to breathe, I know, I know. But the bird is breathing!"

Again, I could see nothing.

I was just about to stammer something about Heaven when my husband came home. Relieved, I gave a quick explanation to him about the bird, grabbed my patient list, and headed to the hospital, leaving the kids sitting vigil over the bird.

As I looked closer at the list, one of the names seemed familiar: Mr. Meyer. Then I remembered -- three weeks prior, while on call, I was called by the ER about him. He was an 82-year-old man with a history of myelodysplasia (a pre-malignant condition), severe anemia, who had suffered a major heart attack and because of that fluid was building up in his lungs. I recalled going into his room; the terse and clipped voices of the doctors and nurses surrounding his bed confirmed what I had already suspected -- the situation was grave.

The ICU team was assessing him, the attending doctors yelling orders to the residents, the x-ray techs were running in and out with their machines, nurses were drawing blood, and medical students were running in with critical lab values. At the center of all this commotion was Mr. Meyer, lying motionless, his eyes closed, a tall man who seemed shrunken and pale.

Machines taking care of his every vital function dwarfed him, each flashing numbers. And to the ICU team, that's what he was -- a bunch of numbers, none particularly promising. The blood pressure was too low, the heart rate too high, the hemoglobin too low, the troponin too high. The cardiologist and hematologist stood outside conferring on what measures to take to best tweak the numbers in his favor. I joined them, but I think we all realized this was futile. We knew the statistics and they were grim. An elderly patient with a pre-existing malignancy, put on life support, has less than 10% chance of leaving the ICU and less than a 1% chance of walking out of the hospital.

Perhaps the most important one was the one that went unnoticed -- the number tattooed on his arm.

So many numbers, yet perhaps the most important one was the one that went unnoticed -- the number tattooed on his arm.

Then I saw Mrs. Meyer, huddled in the corner, her eyes horrified as she peeked out from behind her hands while watching her husband of over 50 years being swarmed on by the staff. I introduced myself, and as her eyes beseeched me to give her some hope, I didn't have the heart to tell her what I knew to be true, so instead I relied on physiology. "Uh, well, his heart suffered damage and isn't pumping really well and is causing fluid to build up in his lungs..."

At that point I realized her eyes had completely glazed over. The most I could muster was "He is being taken care of by some of the best ICU doctors in the city and they are working their hardest." I introduced her to the attending team who would be admitting him, but as I left the ER, I remember feeling very unsatisfied. Medical science has advanced so far that we are able to keep gravely ill patients alive, but often I wonder -- to what end?

I was thinking about all this as I drove to the hospital to make rounds. As I walked towards Mr. Meyer's room I was wondering what sort of medical limbo had he now been thrust into: A coma? A vegetative state?

I certainly was not prepared for what I saw.

"Good morning!" boomed a voice with a faint European accent.

I looked over, and there he sat, stately and tall, quite a presence even in his hospital gown.

"Well, I feel okay, but they are telling me I'm pretty sick." A quick read of his chart showed he had a very complex hematologic problem that had two prominent hematologists and a cardiologist at odds on how to treat him. "I'm having my records sent to some big shot hematologist in Israel -- he's a friend of my daughter's. She's a doctor there."

Referring to the number tattooed on his arm, I asked him where he was from.

"Lithuania. In Latvia and Estonia they killed all the Jews, but in Lithuania," he said somewhat wryly, "they needed roads and bridges. So we got to stay in work camps and do their work. Until 1944, when the Russians came and I was transported to Dachau."

As he described Dachau his eyes took on a steely glare. "The filth, the sickness, the work ... but through it all," he said resolutely, "I wanted to live, I needed to live. I lost so much weight but even then I knew I had to survive. A Nazi soldier befriended me and would give me extra bread -- I guess he saw something in me.

"But I remember the last time he took me into his office to give me bread. He looked at my body -- so thin and covered with sores, and I could tell by his look he had given up on me. I didn't get the extra bread.

"Can you believe this?" he bellowed. "Can you believe this?! He gave up on me." Mr. Meyer looked at me pointedly.

Feeling slightly ashamed that three weeks earlier I had probably given him a similar look as the Nazi, I stammered, as sort of an apology, "No, I really can't believe it."

"I went back to the barracks feeling very weak," he continued. "It was only then that I felt I might die. But then the next day, a miracle happened -- we were liberated!"

Perhaps even more amazing, his mother and sister had both survived (his father having died previously) and were reunited in California where Mr. Meyer established a successful real estate business and raised a family.

He looked up sadly. "So now they're telling me there is nothing more they can do… but I have so much more life to live."

In the ten years I have been practicing medicine I have seen so much that can't be explained away by science.

I looked at him, his power and strength emanating from him even as he sat tethered to IV poles. His eyes pleaded with me to give him some sort of an answer. At the time, fully believing it, I said, "You know, Mr. Meyer, you just might get another miracle."

His wife, with tears in her voice, held his hand and whispered, "I told you so."

As I drove home I reflected on the nature of miracles. In the ten years I have been practicing medicine I have seen so much that can't be explained away by science. So many times, by sheer will, patients live much longer than we expect, and then other patients who give up, die of non-life threatening illnesses. And each time, it's amazing.

When I got home my two little kids practically pounced on me. Julia was so excited she could barely talk.

"Mom! Mom! He got up!"

Puzzled, I looked at my husband for help. He mouthed, "The bird."

"What?" wondering what slight of hand my husband had done to convince them it moved.

I looked at him and he whispered, "It's true."

"See Mom," my four-year-old son said very seriously, clearly annoyed I had ever doubted, "I told you he was alive!"

"He was sleeping, he got up, and he flew away," my daughter exclaimed, her blue eyes shining. "Isn't it great?!"

Last I heard, Mr. Meyer had gotten out of the hospital and received his second opinion -- from his daughter's friend, in Israel, where he is visiting for two months.

The opinions expressed in the comment section are the personal views of the commenters. Comments are moderated, so please keep it civil.

Visitor Comments: 26

(25)
Judith N. Cohen,
May 28, 2007 6:16 PM

I knew the real Mr. Meyer

I knew and worked for the real Mr. Meyer in his family real estate business for 12 years before he died. Dr. Yaris, although you slightly changed some identifying details, you really captured his essence with the dialogue attributed to him. I feel very fortunate to have had a close relationship with this man, the first Holocaust survivor to whom I have ever truly been close. His perpetual positive attitude and strength were truly an inspiration. I think about him often as I purchased his car from the family after his death. He was a unique individual and was never bitter when he would speak of his experiences before, during and after the war. He built a successful business and had a wonderful devoted family. For that alone, he was successful. He is missed by many.

(24)
Carole Binder,
March 25, 2007 4:59 PM

Strong belief and will to live

A strong belief in a being greater than we are and a strong will to live...these bring miracles. But, when it is time to go the same strong belief and strong will bring us closer to G-d.

(23)
Anonymous,
February 27, 2007 12:07 AM

it helps alot to hear this kind of stories/realities,espacially when one of your family member have cancer thank you

(22)
bob,
February 23, 2007 2:28 PM

no life support for majority

each case is individual but most people do want want life supuport only to prolong agony and pain only to die that way instead of leaving it up to hashem and going in serentiy . It is not for terminal cases (kidney ,multisystem failure)etc this man's organs had not stopped functioning yet and so still a chance though so very rare. Just be glad for him but do not expect it for everyone and be so depressed and disapppointed that your loved one wasn't as fortunate.forget these extraordinary machines and leave it up to hashem -don;t let your loved one suffer or be an invlid and vegetable.they beg you not to.do not defile their precious body.and some things are just irreversible.

(21)
raye,
February 15, 2007 6:29 AM

Miracles do happen but...

Miracles do happen but we need more doctors who believe in them -not the kind of doctors to whom patients are mere guinea pigs to be experimented upon, here in Israel as well as elsewhere.

(20)
NK,
February 14, 2007 3:45 PM

I'm wondering why G-d isn't mentioned in this article. It talks about miracles, but not about them coming from G-d.

(19)
Joanne Asher,
February 12, 2007 9:22 PM

My father is well over 90,thank G-d.He has been on life support a few times. I was told years ago that it is highly likely that he has lung cancer. Thank Heavens he is doing great. We enjoyed cold cut sanwiches together yesterday for lunch.(He enjoyed the pickles and cinnamon bubka too.) He davens three times a day and is sure to remind me when rosh chodesh is coming up!

(18)
CC,
February 12, 2007 7:00 PM

Mi Kiamcha Yisrael

This story is really inspiring, precisely so because we should be proud that at the time that many frum Yidden have risen to the top in the medical profession, we still remember Who Runs the World, unlike doctors who believe the power is in their hands. And that is our salvation, after modern medicine ends and there's nothing left to do..

(17)
Susan Rubinstein,
February 12, 2007 8:10 AM

My Dad died of complications from myleodysplasia, not as lucky at 84

My Dad died 2 years ago from the same type of thing, myleodysplasia blood disorder, a pre-leukemia type disease and had a heart condition for over 30 years. Unfortunately septic shock set in and he couldn't fight off the infection. His kidneys shut down but his heart kept beating longer. They couldn't save him due to his blood pressure being too low to start dialysis. Every case is different and this Mr. Meyers definitely beat the odds and another miracle came to him. Only Hashem knows why these things happen....modern science certainly cannot explain it all even to this day.

(16)
Sheldon F. Katz,
February 12, 2007 12:01 AM

one question

If Mr. Meyers did not have a successfull real estate business (thst is, a lot of money), would he have received the same care and treatment?

(15)
Gwen Davis,
February 11, 2007 10:09 AM

I refuse to die

I have been given a diagnosis of which I refuse to speak. However, in Mr. Meyer's words, "I want to live. I need to live. I have so much more to live for." Baruch Hashem.

Shoshana,
December 3, 2011 6:46 PM

refuah sheleima

I wish you a complete recovery-a refuah sheleima. If you want to send me your Hebrew name, we will doven for you.

(14)
b,
February 11, 2007 8:40 AM

5% chance

Several years ago, my grandchild was born with many problems due to a virus before he was born. The possible complications were very scary. But the OB cared enough to assure me that even if the kid has only a 5% chance, G-d can make him be in the good statistics. Oddly enough, this OB is usually flaunting his alienation from faith....{On the other hand, a fancy developmental specialist told us that the kid was so messed up, not even to bother with the experimental drug which was being considered.} We had to choose between the 2 paths. With G-d's grace, the child is doing unbelievably well, a joy.I often remember that "5%" of hope, for myself and to encourage others faced with difficult situations.Doctors have a special responsibility, not to get burned and discouraged themselves, but even more, to support or at the very least, not break the spirit of their patients and their families. We who know that G-d is Omnipotent, know that even with zero chance, miracles can happen. Like that little bird.Thanks, Dr. Yaris!

(13)
Claudia from Boston,
December 24, 2003 12:00 AM

inspiring and good to keep in mind..!

Thank you for sharing such an inspiring story. Please, continue to do so; it expands the horizon of our souls.

(12)
wanda reichstein gonda,
December 18, 2003 12:00 AM

very moving story, and a believable one.

as a physician myself I understand perfectly her initial doubts, and admire the fact that she so rapidly accepted the "new reality" as she came across it! most of us keep denying it, looking for some logical and/or scientifical explanation.

(11)
Alex Talkar,
December 4, 2003 12:00 AM

Very inspiring story

Thank you for sharing this beautiful master piece and all the best.
Alex

(10)
Anonymous,
December 3, 2003 12:00 AM

this is a beautiful inspiring story!

thank you so much for the story, it gave me food for thought and inspired me very much!

(9)
norman,
December 3, 2003 12:00 AM

my brother

what can I do or say to my brother who is dying of pancreatic cancer--some doctors have told him to get his will inorder and just wait for the end. I've told him to try and be strong and possitive, miracles do happen; keep believing in the power of G-D and keep the faith--your Mr Myer letter has given me the extra incentive to keep praying for his recovery or at least to ease the pain he's in----thank you

(8)
Malkah Hegel,
December 3, 2003 12:00 AM

Anything is possible, we just forget that.

Thank you for the reminder that anything is possible, that Our Creator and His children transcend all human-imposed limitations. It is always Gods will, yet our will is considered. Remember Abraham? We spend our adulthoods rediscovering what we knew intrinsically as children.

(7)
Victoria Frank,
December 3, 2003 12:00 AM

God is still working miracles.

Thank you for sharing this messege of hope.I believe that God has not done with us yet. He did wonders in the days of our fathers and He is still doing thesame today. We just have to trust Him some more just like Mr. Meyer.God sees things in a different way.He saw that Mr.Meyer has not given up hope so He heard his prayers. We need to hear more of these testimonies and miracles.
Thank You.

(6)
esther,
December 1, 2003 12:00 AM

Inspiring!!!

this true account makes me want to live every moment to it's fullest. Mr. Meyer's will to live is truly inspirational. Thank you for sharing this incredible story.

(5)
Anonymous,
December 1, 2003 12:00 AM

God's will and Our will

Mr. Meyer, was a Holocaust survivor and an inveterate survivor through life's afflictions and adversities, but in this story of strength and durability,
dare we not also believe in the role of God's will?

(4)
Anonymous,
December 1, 2003 12:00 AM

inspiring

Not only does this article show a doctor who has maintained her sinsitivity to her patients but one who is a successful and involved parent of her three children and seems to have a good partnership in her marriage. It is important to let our daughters know that their homelife, their spiritual life and their work aspirations can be balanced

(3)
Anonymous,
December 1, 2003 12:00 AM

Living and dying

I think there must be another hidden message, through these two events, similar, yet different, for Dr. Jackie Yaris to ponder on.

For some reason, two miracles in one day. Both reflecting the desire for the living to continue living.

One, a bird, for what ever reason, fell to it's grave, only to be given a second chance to live, and fly.

Mr. Meyer, who has an extreme health condition, while many sharing similar medical diagnonsis, give up, not wanting to give life a chance to get better.

Both must be acceptable to G-d, because both are allowed to happen.

It must be acceptable to G-d for those who want to live, to live. But maybe it's acceptable to G-d too, for those who don't have the same passion for living.

Maybe some people are ready to give up before they ever get sick, and they just need an excuse to give up.

But maybe it's okay too, for those who do give up, and leave this world, for whatever else they believe to be better.

Because some live, and some die, then it must be acceptable, because it happens.

Nonetheless, the passion for life and living, in this article is truly sweet. A bit of a teary one too.

(2)
Anonymous,
November 30, 2003 12:00 AM

Profound and inspiring

Dr. Yaris' story is both beautifully written and incredibly inspiring. How many of us fight as hard for "more life to live"? It is so much easier to yield to the statistics which seem to doom our dreams. Thanks for printing this beautiful piece.

I've been striving to get more into spirituality. But it seems that every time I make some progress, I find myself slipping right back to where I started. I'm getting discouraged and feel like a failure. Can you help?

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Spiritual slumps are a natural part of spiritual growth. There is a cycle that people go through when at times they feel closer to God and at times more distant. In the words of the Kabbalists, it is "two steps forward and one step back." So although you feel you are slipping, know that this is a natural process. The main thing is to look at your overall progress (over months or years) and be able to see how far you've come!

This is actually God's ingenious way of motivating us further. The sages compare this to teaching a baby how to walk. When the parent is holding on, the baby shrieks with delight and is under the illusion that he knows how to walk. Yet suddenly, when the parent lets go, the child panics, wobbles and may even fall.

At such times when we feel spiritually "down," that is often because God is letting go, giving us the great gift of independence. In some ways, these are the times when we can actually grow the most. For if we can move ourselves just a little bit forward, we truly acquire a level of sanctity that is ours forever.

Here is a practical tool to help pull you out of the doldrums. The Sefer HaChinuch speaks about a great principle in spiritual growth: "The external awakens the internal." This means that although we may not experience immediate feelings of closeness to God, eventually, by continuing to conduct ourselves in such a manner, this physical behavior will have an impact on our spiritual selves and will help us succeed. (A similar idea is discussed by psychologists who say: "Smile and you will feel happy.")

That is the power of Torah commandments. Even if we may not feel like giving charity or praying at this particular moment, by having a "mitzvah" obligation to do so, we are in a framework to become inspired. At that point we can infuse that act of charity or prayer with all the meaning and lift it can provide. But if we'd wait until being inspired, we might be waiting a very long time.

May the Almighty bless you with the clarity to see your progress, and may you do so with joy.

In 1940, a boatload 1,600 Jewish immigrants fleeing Hitler's ovens was denied entry into the port of Haifa; the British deported them to the island of Mauritius. At the time, the British had acceded to Arab demands and restricted Jewish immigration into Palestine. The urgent plight of European Jewry generated an "illegal" immigration movement, but the British were vigilant in denying entry. Some ships, such as the Struma, sunk and their hundreds of passengers killed.

If you seize too much, you are left with nothing. If you take less, you may retain it (Rosh Hashanah 4b).

Sometimes our appetites are insatiable; more accurately, we act as though they were insatiable. The Midrash states that a person may never be satisfied. "If he has one hundred, he wants two hundred. If he gets two hundred, he wants four hundred" (Koheles Rabbah 1:34). How often have we seen people whose insatiable desire for material wealth resulted in their losing everything, much like the gambler whose constant urge to win results in total loss.

People's bodies are finite, and their actual needs are limited. The endless pursuit for more wealth than they can use is nothing more than an elusive belief that they can live forever (Psalms 49:10).

The one part of us which is indeed infinite is our neshamah (soul), which, being of Divine origin, can crave and achieve infinity and eternity, and such craving is characteristic of spiritual growth.

How strange that we tend to give the body much more than it can possibly handle, and the neshamah so much less than it needs!